Sleep
by boreum dal
Summary: Sakura's insomnia reaches a breaking point, and she calls best friend Syaoran to ask if she can sleep over at his place. He obliges her, but when the night leads to a bit more than either of them expect, how do they handle the morning after? One-shot AU.


**Disclaimer:** CLAMP owns my soul. And CCS. Which means that I don't own CCS... unfortunately.

**Summary: **When Sakura's newfound insomnia reaches a breaking point, she calls longtime best friend Syaoran to ask if she can sleep over at his apartment instead. Ever considerate, he obliges her, but when the night leads to a bit more than either of them expect, how do they handle it the next morning, when the cover of darkness has left them?

Hello! So... I realize this isn't a new chapter of _Fukai Negai_ OR the new story I've been promising, but what can I say? I get distracted. XD

Actually, I suffer from pretty awful writer's block fairly often, and I've been trying to break it when I've felt it coming on this summer, at least so I can finish _Fukai Negai_ and churn out a couple of chapters for my new story later on. I can give the full explanation to this story at the end to spare you guys a looooong introductory author's note, but I guess I should let you know up front that **this story is the spawn of a writing challenge,** and I use "he" and "she" exclusively because part of the challenge was to refrain from using the lead characters' names, haha. Also, **although the story is rated T**, it's a bit more... er... risque than anything I've written before (although it's hardly graphic). Just a warning. XD

Anyway, I hardly ever do one-shots (and I've never posted one before), so I hope this one is okay! Please enjoy, and I'd love it if you left a review at the end!

* * *

**Sleep**

For the last five days, she'd had trouble sleeping.

It was summer, and that meant several things: she had far too much idle time on her hands, which meant that she could not shut her brain off, which meant that she could not fall asleep; and it was hot and sticky at night, which meant her cotton sheets clung to her mercilessly, even when she tried to kick them off. The weather this year was particularly bad; she'd never known that it could be even hotter and more humid than what she'd experienced in previous years, but it could. She'd resorted to sleeping in a t-shirt and underwear, and on nights when it was unbearable, she'd toss off the t-shirt, too.

In addition to that, she'd only recently moved into her own apartment, a small studio which she loved during the daytime but hated during the night for the aching loneliness it produced. An upcoming second-year college student, she'd received the apartment as a late birthday gift. She'd looked forward to trying things out on her own, but she hadn't anticipated the immense emptiness she felt now, knowing that her father was not down the hall from her. She had found herself missing the family photographs that lined the walls in the hallway of her home, the plants that her father so meticulously took care of sitting in corners of the living room, the smell of good food permanently ingrained into the walls of their well-used kitchen. She'd called her brother to ask for his advice a few days ago, as he'd moved out of the family home a few years ago, but he was far better in dealing with being alone than she had ever been, and he was unable to give her any real help.

Rolling over, she glanced at her digital alarm clock, which glowed out 2:49 AM. She sighed. She'd been trying to sleep for two hours to no avail, now.

Almost immediately, her eyes jumped to the cellular phone sitting beside the clock. She'd thought of it many nights before, wondering if it'd be a good solution to her sleeplessness; but she hadn't dared to try it. But it had been five days—five _agonizing_ days—that she had had this issue, and at this point, she was going to do anything to fix it.

Reaching over to grab her phone, she felt her palms grow sweaty. It was silly, she knew, but she was nervous. Dialing the first number on her speed dial, she held the phone to her ear and waited as ringing came through on the other line, until she heard the shuffling of an answer.

"Hello?" The voice was only slightly groggy.

"Did I wake you?" she said softly, her voice apologetic.

"No, no, I'd only half-fallen asleep... Got back from Eriol's kind of late. What's up? Are you okay?" his voice was tinged with concern, as she never called him this late unless something bad had happened.

She blushed, feeling more and more stupid by the moment—but, she figured, she'd already made the first step, so why should she stop now? "I—I'm fine. I just haven't been able to sleep."

"Still? It's been nearly a week... Maybe you should get that checked out."

"No, I don't think it's anything permanent. I hope. I just—um... That's actually why I'm calling. I—I have a favor to ask of you," she stammered, heart racing now.

There was a pause. "Okay...?" His voice wasn't unkind, but there was definitely a perplexed tone to it.

She didn't blame him. She felt crazy.

"Do you think I could... Maybe..." She sighed, leaning against her bedpost and tapping her fingers against her thigh, her knees raised toward her chest. And then, all of it came out in a rush. "Maybe head over to your apartment and sleep with you? Just for tonight? It just gets lonely here, and I'm not really used to it yet. I'd ask Tomoyo, but she's out of town, and it'd just be embarrassing to ask my father... I know it's stupid and all, but..." She trailed off, trying to shut up before she could say anything truly stupid.

There was an even longer pause here, and she held her breath as she awaited his answer. She was mentally preparing herself for a rejection, knowing that it was probably a bit out of his comfort zone to allow such a request, no matter how good of a friend he was to her.

But then, much to her surprise, she heard him say, "Sure," and rather nonchalantly, at that.

"Oh, thank you!" she squealed, smiling. "I'll be over in a bit—"

"Don't. It's late. I'll pick you up." And with that, he hung up.

* * *

For thirteen years, they'd known each other; for ten of those thirteen years, they'd been best friends. For five of those ten years, she had been hopelessly in love with him, and she had never been able to tell him, frightened of what it would do to their friendship. Everything about him was so very dear to her—his carelessly tousled chestnut hair, his bright amber eyes, his unabashed grin whenever she did something silly, his unfathomable protectiveness over her. She could not imagine losing any of that, and so she kept her mouth shut when it came to the issue of their relationship.

They were very close, but he was a private person, and so she had never spent the night at his apartment, although she'd visited almost daily—and taken plenty of naps there. Unlike her, he had been living on his own since he was ten, as his family lived in Hong Kong while he studied in Japan.

"You can sleep in my bed," he said once they'd reached his bedroom. "I'll sleep on the sofa," he said, and he moved to grab a blanket and a pillow out of a closet in the hallway.

She nodded, saying her thanks, and once he left the room, she removed her shorts, pulled her hair out of its ribbon-clad ponytail, and lay back in the comfortable bed, enjoying the feel of the black Egyptian cotton against her bare legs. She giggled at how high-maintenance he was—she'd always teased him that he'd had nicer bedding than she did. Shutting her eyes, she tried to relax.

But an hour later, she found that she could not.

She'd been debating for the last thirty minutes over whether or not she should do the unthinkable. She didn't want to break his slumber, for he, unlike her, fell asleep quite easily and was likely knocked out on the couch outside. But he had surprised her in letting her come here, and some part of her felt wild, reckless, and needy—she'd be up all night, she knew, if she did not try.

Sighing, she stood up, pulling her shorts back on and heading into the living room. Softly, she called his name.

He sat up immediately, and she nearly jumped at the sudden movement in the quiet atmosphere.

"What's wrong?"

Making her way to the sofa, she sat down beside his legs and sighed.

"Still can't sleep?" His voice was rough from being awakened, but it was sympathetic.

She shook her head. "I know I'm being stupid..."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "It's not stupid. Obviously something's bothering you. Is there anything I should do? Maybe some warm milk would help you fall asleep."

She smiled appreciatively; Tomoyo had pointed out several times how he'd been willing to do almost anything for her, at any time. It was true; and he hadn't even mentioned being woken up. The thought encouraged her. "No, that's okay. You don't have to go through that kind of effort." She hesitated, drawing in a breath, and then, exhaling loudly, she said, "But... I _was_ wondering... If you—you wouldn't mind sleeping with—with me."

_Did I just say that?_ she thought to herself, blood pounding through her ears. What the hell was she thinking? That stupid recklessness she felt inside, she should have known better than to trust it... There was silence, and she forced herself to look at him.

He didn't look angry or taken aback, but thoughtful and hesitant. Finally, after a few moments, he spoke. "Of course I wouldn't mind—but are you sure?"

She nodded, relief flooding through her. "I do think it would help."

Shrugging, he got up off the sofa and grabbed the pillow and blanket. Holding a hand out to help her up, he led her down the hallway back to his room.

* * *

Another thirty minutes had passed, and she could still not sleep.

For one, there was the obvious—it was absolutely nerve-wracking (and she wondered why she'd thought this was a good idea)—and for another, she was hot. Not knowing whether he'd be comfortable with her removing her shorts, she'd left them on; she'd also noticed that he'd been sleeping shirtless on the sofa, but he'd put his shirt on as soon as he'd gotten back into his bedroom.

Not to mention, there was a good distance between them, and she yearned to close it.

It was a silly thought, she knew. She flinched at the thought that he'd probably had other girls in this bed before—it had always killed her when he'd picked up a girlfriend, although none of them seemed to last long—and he'd slept here with them willingly. She, his best friend, on the other hand, had practically begged him into bed with her, and now she was in a most awkward situation. Wishing she'd never done this to herself, she sighed, rolling over onto her side.

"Are you still awake?"

She perked up as she heard his voice; she'd thought he was asleep. "Yeah. If I'm keeping you up, I can move out to the sofa," she said softly, her voice wary. In spite of the embarrassment, she grinned. Tomorrow, they'd laugh over this, she betted.

"You're not keeping me up."

She felt him sit up beside her.

He sighed. "I can't sleep. I'm really hot," he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

She burst into laughter, sitting up as well. "Me, too."

Chuckling, he tugged at his shirt. "You mind if I remove this, then?"

She shook her head. "Er... Do you think I could take off my shorts?"

She heard him draw in a breath, and she glanced at him, confused—but thought nothing of it when she saw him nod. Gratefully, she removed her shorts, tossing them to the side of the bed, and lay back, as did he.

"If I talk to you for awhile, do you think you'll fall asleep?" she heard him ask beside her.

"That sounds nice."

And so he began to converse with her, talking about random, pleasant things; it did help to relax her, but she was still not falling asleep. After another twenty minutes had passed, she sighed.

"If you're tired, you can go to sleep," she whispered, rolling to her side once more. "I think I'm kind of hopeless."

And then, to her surprise, he closed the space between them and wrapped an arm around her waist, lying on his side as well so that his body fit closely to hers. She gasped as she felt his breath on her neck.

"Would this help at all?" His voice was sincere, and she knew him better than to think he was trying at all to seduce her. That said, there was a tone to it that she could not read.

She tried to keep her own voice from shaking as she managed an "Uh-huh," although her mind screamed that this was most certainly _not_ the way to fall asleep.

His thumb moved senselessly back and forth up her midriff over her shirt in what he must have thought was a comforting gesture, but her breathing quickened and she was far from comforted. She hoped he would not notice, but it was a foolish hope—their faces were literally inches away from each other.

She stiffened as she felt his hand begin to move now, down her torso, his fingers sliding lightly under her shirt and up her stomach. He traced patterns around her navel, and she gasped.

He paused, the motions stopping. "Is this all right?" he breathed in her ear.

Wait—that _wasn't_ seduction, was it?

"Y—yeah, it's—it's fine," she mumbled. "Feels good. Don't stop."

She could have sworn she heard him laugh, but she had no time to ask just what was so funny as she felt his hands continue where they left off.

She had no idea how a mere touch could feel so good, but it was as though his fingers were trailing electricity along her skin. As they grazed up and down her midriff, tracing lazy circles across her ribs and dipping down around her belly button, she had to clench her fists to keep from completely hyperventilating.

And although she'd only barely been aware of his warm breath on her neck, another part of her became alert when she felt that breath drawing closer and closer. Had she not been so distracted by his fingers, she might have been able to coherently wonder to herself what exactly he was doing to her—and why he was doing it. But coherence was absolutely out of the question, especially when she felt his lips press gently against the area just between her neck and her shoulder.

Restraint gone, she moaned as she felt him shift so that he was leaning on his elbow, his hand still tracing her torso and his lips moving softly up and down her neck, so light that he might as well have been breathing on her.

"Sleepy yet?" he asked, and she felt him grin just before he paused and placed a kiss on the nape of her neck.

"N—no, oddly enough," she managed to gasp, making him chuckle.

His hand began to slide slowly down her waist, pausing only briefly at the band of her underwear before moving up and down her thigh in the same manner that it had done on her torso. Trying to gather her thoughts, she mumbled a few words, trying to ask what he was doing, but he didn't seem to hear. When she felt his tongue gently following the trail that his lips had made just moments before, she cried out softly, finally wriggling away and rolling over to face him. She could not take it anymore.

"I lied," she said between breaths, her heart positively hammering in her chest. "This—this won't help me fall asleep."

_Well, that much was obvious from the start, _she thought wryly to herself as soon as the words left her mouth. But just as she prepared herself to finally ask him why he was doing this, she looked into his eyes and saw something inexplicable. Perhaps it was the darkness playing tricks on her, but from the light reflecting through the window, she could see enough, and almost as soon as she realized that his hand was still snaked around her waist and that the other was suddenly tracing the contours of her face, she lost all sense of thought and pressed her lips against his.

She had absolutely no idea what she was doing—she'd never done anything like this before, let alone with the boy she had been in love with for years—and it terrified her. But _he_ seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and when his tongue ran slowly across her lower lip, her mouth opened in a gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue in. Stiffening only for a moment, she felt his arm pulling her closer to him, imploring her to relax, and tentatively, she began to follow his lead.

As they kissed, she continued to let his hands wander up and down her body, trying to control herself but letting the occasional gasp or moan slip into his mouth. This was most certainly not what she'd expected when she'd asked to sleep over at his apartment, and while she definitely couldn't complain, a part of her wondered continuously where all of this was coming from—where was her proper, restrained, private best friend?

When his hands began to roam new places, she completely shut out those questions.

She had never been one to ruin a good thing.

* * *

When she awoke, it took her a few moments to recognize the arms wrapped around her waist.

Stifling a gasp, she looked over beside her and remembered the events of the previous evening as she took in his sleeping face. They had kissed and touched until she had finally begun to nod off, her eyes drooping closed as she snuggled closer into him. He'd been oddly tender with her, she remembered, his hold on her secure. She'd fallen asleep to him kissing her forehead and her hair softly, over and over, and she remembered thinking that she had never known that such euphoria could even exist.

He breathed in deeply beside her and opened his eyes. She watched him look around for a moment, as though he was only just now remembering everything that had happened as well. She was disappointed at how quickly he seemed to remove his arms from her.

Sitting up and scratching his head, he looked down at her, a characteristic smirk on his face. "So, you finally fell asleep, huh?"

She nodded, suddenly self-conscious about her bare legs. She sat up as well, drawing the blanket around her lower body and avoiding looking at him for fear that her eyes would wander to his own shirtless chest. "Thank you. It did help a lot."

He glanced at the clock. "It's only been five or so hours since you started sleeping, you know. You can go back to bed for a few more hours if you want."

"What about you? You must be tired."

"Nah, I have some errands to run. I can drop you off when I get back if you want to sleep in." His words were kind, she noticed, but his voice was stilted, and she wasn't sure if he meant what he said.

Biting her lip, she shook her head. "I can go home now. I'll just take a nap there if I get tired."

He shrugged and got out of bed, stretching. Grabbing his shirt from the ground, he pulled it on and walked over to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "Suit yourself."

She waited till he'd shut the door before she scrambled to find her shorts, pulling them on and tying up her hair. She glanced at her reflection in his dresser mirror; she looked like a wreck. He'd most certainly seen her through worse—there had been days when he'd held her as she sobbed for hours after a pet died or after a breakup with the occasional boyfriend (always meant to be a distraction from him, really), and there had been nights in the last year when he'd held her hair back as she vomited into a toilet after her inexperience with parties and alcohol had gotten the better of her. But still, she felt that this was different, somehow. She was incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden, and she shivered remembering his hands running up her body.

What had he thought of her? If it had been anything good, why was he acting so distant after having been so sweet and... _physical_ the night before? She felt ashamed and—_used_, almost. Because the only explanation she could come up with was that it had simply been very convenient for him—they were close, and so perhaps he didn't think it would be awkward.

What she hated the most was that she had not once been able to ask him where all of it would lead, for she had been too enthralled; the boy of her dreams had finally made a move on her. But for all she knew, it could very well have meant nothing.

Letting out a dejected sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself and waited on his bed for him to come out.

* * *

He frowned as he glanced over at her. She'd been quiet since they'd woken up, and he couldn't really muster up a conversation in the car, either.

He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, watching the road ahead of them. He wasn't stupid; he was certain it was because of what had happened the night before. But she had seemed to enjoy it...

For the longest time, she'd been like a sister to him, both younger and older as she'd been there for him as many times as he had been there for her. But in the last couple of years, things had changed between them; somewhere along the line, they had grown more openly affectionate of each other. And as their hardships had gotten more serious, as they tended to do with age, their reliance on each other had become more frequent, more emotionally intimate... And then, just like that, he'd woken up one morning and realized that he was very much in love with his best friend.

So of course, when she'd asked if he could spend the night at his house, he'd immediately said yes, although he'd had to bat away thoughts of kissing her soft pink lips, stroking her honey-auburn hair and staring into her eyes—eyes the brightest shade of emerald he'd ever seen—until she fell asleep in his arms. No, he couldn't think of things like that, because, for one, he knew her—and he had never been her type, ever. He was athletic and even by his own admission, rather stoic; and while he was not stupid by any means, she had always seemed to go for the more openly intellectual, sensitive type. As a result, he had thought for the longest time that she might have a crush on his good friend Eriol, but when he'd brought it up (as casually as he could) one day, she'd laughed hysterically, waving off the idea as ridiculous.

And for another—and most importantly—she was just so innocent. She told him everything, and he was well aware that, although she'd had boyfriends before (the last of whom he'd wanted to murder for breaking up with her in such a fashion that had left her an emotional mess for days afterward), she had never done more than kiss them.

He, on the other hand, had lost his virginity two years ago, and although she often teased him about it in a playful, benign manner, he had never really been able to gather what exactly she thought about the way he handled his physical relationships.

But he'd lost himself when she'd asked him to sleep with her in the same bed; he'd held off for awhile, going so far as to keep his shirt on, but before he knew what he was doing, he'd pulled her to him and his body had rejoiced at the feeling of holding her. Encouraged by the way she reacted to his touch, he'd continued, pausing every so often to make sure that she was not uncomfortable with what he was doing, and somehow, they'd ended up kissing.

He'd barely slept an hour the entire night—so thrilled was he to finally hold her the way he'd dreamed of for the last year—but when he'd awoken in the morning, it had been, for lack of a better word, awkward. She'd seemed more perplexed than happy about what had happened, and embarrassed and regretful, he hadn't been able to bring himself to speak about it at all.

So of course, he'd spent the entire drive back to her apartment beating himself up for essentially ruining a perfectly wonderful friendship.

Pulling up to the parking lot of the apartment complex, he parked the car and unbuckled his seatbelt, getting ready to get out of the car to open her door.

He paused as she placed a hand on his arm.

"No, it's fine," she said, and then she quickly drew her hand away, the expression on her face unreadable. "Thank you for driving me. And letting me stay the night."

He opened his mouth to respond with the standard "No problem, I'll call you later," but somehow, it seemed inappropriate. He had no idea what to say, but he wanted to fix this.

She watched him, sensing that he was going to say something, waiting for it.

He realized at that moment that it'd be near impossible to _fix_ something like that, and he sighed.

"Give me a second," he said, looking at her apologetically.

She looked even more baffled than before.

It was near impossible to fix it... But he didn't have much more to lose, did he?

He considered the options for all of two seconds before he felt the words rising up his throat and out of his mouth, almost against his own will. "So... I think I might have trouble falling asleep tonight, too."

Her eyes widened. "H—huh?"

In spite of his nerves, he smiled at her. "In fact, I might have trouble falling asleep not just tonight, but for a really long time..."

She stared back at him, speechless.

Leaning in, he kissed her tenderly on the nose. He pulled back only slightly, looking her in the eyes. "Think you could help me out?"

Biting back a smile, she nodded and closed the space between them once more, putting her arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Neither of them saw much sleep in their future, but it would hardly be due to insomnia.

* * *

And there you have it! Just to clarify, I'm aware that it _sounds_ like this will lead to a friends-with-benefits kind of thing, but don't worry. Syaoran would officially ask her out the next night or so, probably, because he loves her and also because he does not have the time or the mental capacity to deal with something as complicated as friends-with-benefits. XD (I tried to indicate that he meant more than just physical when he asked her to spend the night again by the little nose-kiss... But I guess interpretation is subjective, haha.)

So, here are the details of the challenge that I spoke of in the beginning: I was talking to a friend, **swallowingtears** (props to her for getting this one out of me), about how I haven't really been able to write anything fluffy in ages (I have no idea when angst became my primary category, but... ah, I guess I just let the harder times in life get the best of me, and I apologize to my readers for that XD), and how I just had the urge to write pure fluff. So, she gave me a challenge: write a 1000-word story in which I use the words "black," "thirteen," "ribbon," "cotton," and "plant" and refrain from using the words/phrases "I love you," "Are you all right?," "sorry," "baby," and their names (hence the complete usage of "he" and "she" throughout the story). I obviously failed at the 1000-word part, but if you look through, I managed to get everything else. SUCCESS! Haha.

Anyway, beyond that, I also kind of looked at it as a challenge for myself—my objectives were to write a decent physical (non-explicit) scene, to write good fluff, to keep the premise simple, and to not get overly analytical with my writing. I think I failed the last part, but... That's my personality, so I guess I can just keep trying with that one. D:

All righty, I think that's everything... I'll post the last couple of chapters to _Fukai Negai_ soon! Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think, so please review!

Love,

boreum dal


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